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There had been a total of three times in his life when Brett honestly hoped the ground would open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. The first was in high school when he’d been trying to fit in with his family and some of his terrible poetry got out and made the rounds of mockery. The second happened when Michel told him he was not only dating Brett’s cousin Sylvia, but they were also moving in together and away from Brett. The third was this moment right now.
Maybe he could move underground, coming out once a year to blink in the sunlight and refresh his stock of soda and canned soup. Anything to keep this meeting from happening, to keep himself from being in it.
“Brett, what the fuck are you doing?” Evelyn called to him as he stood frozen in horror, torn between staring at his siblings and at the mysterious text on his phone.
His sisters. He was returning from a gloriously romantic day with Michel and there, where no table and chairs had been before, were his sisters. Patience, decked in a vast, flowing number, covered all over in toucans and bright-blue palm trees, and looking like someone had attacked her with color, eyed him mildly. Evelyn, who stared at him like he was the crazy one, wore a sarong over her bedazzled bikini and, even from a distance, Brett could smell the coconut oil sunscreen on her skin.
As he froze, he imagined possible scenarios. Since the ground wasn’t cooperating in swallowing him whole, he would have to save Michel himself. He could leap in front of him or push him into the ocean, or throw something at his sisters to distract them from him, or...
It was too late. Michel wasn’t far behind him, and he stopped next to Brett. Although Brett had successfully kept him away from meeting his family, he knew Michel recognized his sisters. After all, he’d been hounded by Evelyn before, in her role of fan club president, and there was a mounting pile of evidence identifying him as one of the characters in Patience’s book.
Brett saw the moment Evelyn noticed Michel. Saw her waving arm fall, saw her mouth drop open, her eyes flicker wildly between Brett and Michel, her struggle to breathe. He saw Patience narrow her eyes, her body tense and ready to spring. And then there was Michel, dear sweet Michel, who knew the vipers were out and there was nothing to stop them from attacking.
“Your sisters,” Michel said softly, his voice mild but betraying a hint of trepidation.
Brett stared at Michel, his face blank, his brain slow to process. He wasn’t handling this well. He’d known the meeting was a possibility and yet was completely and utterly unprepared.
“Hello, Michel,” Evelyn breathed, finally able to speak. Her face was hungry.
“Hello again, Evelyn,” Michel replied in the calm voice he used around his more extreme fans.
“I haven’t seen you since the Seasons of Light premiere. You haven’t been anywhere.”
Michel said, in his most press-ready tone, “I’ve been taking some time to myself before I research my next role. You’ll see plenty of me in the coming months when I start doing promo for the new film.”
“Taking some time to yourself...with our brother?” Patience asked, her voice loud, cutting through the rush in Brett’s ears.
“Yes, in fact, I have been.” The way Michel spoke, his voice so definitive, so certain, should have anchored Brett. It didn’t.
“Fascinating,” said Patience, raising one eyebrow.
“Is it?”
Evelyn jumped in. “Oh, my God, Brett. How dare you keep him all to yourself. I can’t believe he’s been here this whole time and you didn’t tell us. Mom’ll be furious. I wouldn’t be surprised if she disowns you for real this time, you little shit.”
That was part one of her speech. The second part involved her jumping out of her chair, grabbing Michel by the arm, and demanding he come with her to the bar where they could sit and have a chat. “I may never forgive my brother, but don’t worry, I’d never be mad at you. You already know you’re my idol, but I just have to say, I love every little thing about you, and I need to hear everything. When did you lose your first tooth? When did you get your driver’s license? Oh, and I’ll need a list of all the people you’ve kissed...”
The door closed as she dragged Michel through it. Patience followed close behind, looking delighted at the turn of events.
Brett stood outside alone, looking after them and blinking. “What the hell just happened?” he asked no one.
He considered going back up to the waterfall and leaping off the edge. But it was too long a hike. He thought about going back up to the room and hiding in a corner until Michel came back and broke up with him. But he couldn’t do that to Michel. It was his family and, while he’d long ago gotten over feeling responsible for their disfunction, he was going to protect Michel from them as best he could.
He found the group at a high-top table between the pool and the bar. Michel was stuck between Evelyn and Patience, who flanked him so closely they looked like they were holding him hostage. Fortunately, it was dinner time and the bar was deserted apart from their group. Brett was grateful for the lack of witnesses.
He drew a chair up to the high-top table just in time to hear Evelyn ask, “How often do you secretly date fans?”
Michel looked up when Brett sat down. His face had turned from a mask of calm to uncomfortable confusion.
“Evelyn,” Brett cut in, “really? Michel doesn’t have to tell you about his dating history.”
“I already know most of it. I just want to fill in the rest, the stuff no one knows. I mean you’re obviously close to my brother, and I’m related to him. So, it’s like telling family,” Evelyn said, leaning closer, if possible, to Michel. She was practically in his lap, bedazzled bikini top pressed against his arm, entirely oblivious to Michel’s visible discomfort.
“They’re dating,” Patience said. She scrutinized Michel in a very different way than Evelyn. Evelyn was soaking in Michel, giddy to the point where she seemed in danger of passing out with excitement. Patience was watching him as someone stares at a new species, noting its markings, trying to understand how it lives.
“What?” Evelyn screeched.
Michel flinched away from her.
“I mean, I’d heard there were rumors you had a thing going on with a guy, but my brother? Like seriously, my brother?” Evelyn’s voice rose.
“Thanks,” Brett mumbled. His face was red and so hot he might spontaneously combust.
“She has a point,” Patience said. “You make an unlikely couple.”
Michel jumped in at this point. “That’s not a nice thing to say about your brother. I happen to like him quite a lot.”
Maybe Brett could drown in the pool. It was convenient, close by, and he would definitely be able to get Evie to hold his head down until the bubbles stopped.
Evelyn laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh, it was a fucking scary laugh. “That’s only because you haven’t spent much time with the other Jacobs. I promise you, Brett is completely atypical for our family. He’s the black sheep no one talks about anymore. Now, if you want to spend the rest of your trip with me, I’d be happy to help you forget all about him.”
Her words were so cold, so cliché, they seemed unreal. Who talked about their family like that? His did. His family talked about him like that all the time. If anything had changed since the days when he’d been so desperate for their attention, it wasn’t them. In that instant, when he felt smaller than nothing, Brett wasn’t sure it was him either. They would always be the people whose barbs he couldn’t shake off, the ones who got under his skin no matter how hard he fought to keep them out.
Evelyn had herself wrapped around Michel’s arm. Patience didn’t contradict Evie’s words, didn’t stick up for Brett at all.
And Evelyn wasn’t done. “Okay, but seriously, Michel. Let’s look at all the people you’ve dated and then compare them to Brett. Patience, get another round, this could take a while.”
Brett couldn’t look at Michel. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes. This was absolutely the end. He didn’t hear if Michel responded, he simply got up, turned, and started to walk away. Before he’d made it a few steps, Patience stopped him. For a second, the briefest of seconds, he thought she was going to apologize and denounce the horrible things Evelyn had said. But this was Patience.
“Brett. I’m only saying this because I’m looking out for you. Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“What are you talking about?” As if he didn’t know.
“This is Michel Polce. You don’t really think you two are in the same league, do you? He’ll drop your ass as soon as he realizes you’re not enough, you know that, right? It’s the social order.” She spoke in what she probably thought was a concerned tone but, like all of Patience, it was devoid of actual feeling.
Brett couldn’t respond. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, wanted to believe she was wrong. But he couldn’t. So, he pushed past her and hurried inside, desperate to get back to the room before the tears started.
****
At the door to the suite, the room where he’d had so many almosts with Michel, Brett felt a hand on his arm. He looked up, startled, to see Michel beside him, his face hard. Michel dug in the pocket of his khaki shorts, pulled out a room key, and opened the door, guiding Brett inside. Brett didn’t protest when Michel closed the door behind them, didn’t react when Michel steered him to the couch, and sat when Michel pushed down on his shoulders.
“I’m sorry our avoidance plan failed. I wish it had worked.”
Brett glanced up and met Michel’s beautiful, calm gaze that was watching him with so much open empathy. “What?”
“Your family’s fucking nuts, Brett.”
“What?” Brett said again, with more energy behind it. He heard Michel, but the words didn’t make any sense.
“Your family. I understand now why you never wanted me to meet them, as your family, that is. They’re not nice to you. I can’t believe some of the things they said to me. Is that how it always is?” Michel’s face was so set, so serious. The only time Brett had seen his friend that serious was when he was hard at work on an idea of his own. Not one of the coffee table books or the roles he couldn’t say no to. The projects that were his, that mattered to him, and that he owned completely. Now Michel was looking at him like Brett was one of those projects. As though Michel didn’t know if what he was saying was right but he needed to say it because he cared so deeply.
Brett’s heart swelled. It hurt all the way up his esophagus and lodged in his throat. He looked down, blinking hard so he didn’t cry. He didn’t know what to say. Michel had asked him if it was always that bad. Brett didn’t know how to tell him sometimes it was worse. When his parents were there, maybe an aunt thrown into the mix. He didn’t have to even get into the Stanton side of the family, Michel already knew they were a whole extra special brand of fucked up.
“Brett,” Michel’s voice was soft.
Brett couldn’t look at him or risk blubbing. Without overthinking it, he got up and crossed the room to where Michel stood, his arms hanging at his sides as though he didn’t know what to do with them or how to respond. Brett didn’t stop when he reached his boyfriend. As Michel’s lips parted, probably to ask something, Brett was there, his mouth crushing into Michel’s. He wrapped an arm around him, feeling the heat of his body and taking comfort that Michel was real, Michel was present, and Michel cared about him.
Their kisses grew more frantic, hard and desperate. Michel’s arms wrapped around him, his hands gripping Brett’s ass and pulling them tightly together. Brett moaned as his erection bumped into Michel’s. He couldn’t help it, he rocked into it, pushing against him until Michel gasped and groaned deliciously into Brett’s mouth. Brett tightened his hands in his hair. He kissed like he was trying to completely meld them together. And perhaps he was.
They were wearing too many clothes. With a reluctant grunt, Brett pulled backward. Michel’s swollen, red lips chased him, but he held firm.
Without a word, he detached himself, grabbed Michel’s hand, and led him into the bedroom of their suite. Then he turned to face him and pulled off his t-shirt.
“Are you sure?” Michel asked, breathing heavily.
Brett nodded. “I want this. I want you.”
Michel’s gaze was heavy, his hair mussed from Brett’s hands, his cock visibly straining even in his hiking shorts. He followed Brett’s lead, removing his shirt and then starting in on his pants.
It was forever and no time at all before they were standing naked in front of each other. Brett couldn’t help it, he stared. He’d seen Michel mostly naked the last time they were on Mino, hell, everyone had seen Michel in his Speedo then, but he’d also been out of his mind with pain and booze. Now he wasn’t drunk with a dislocated shoulder. Now he could stare at Michel’s heart-stoppingly gorgeous body in clear, sober awe. “Holy Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered.
Michel was light-brown, muscular, with a sprinkling of dark hair that led in a perfect trail down to his cock. All thoughts Brett may have entertained about not being into dicks evaporated because it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was very, very into Michel’s dick and wanted desperately for it to get to know his own.
After gawking for far too long, he looked up at Michel’s face and found his wonder and lust mirrored there.
“I share your sentiment,” Michel said, his voice deep and his accent more pronounced.
Brett laughed awkwardly. “As if. I mean all of this”—he gestured to his imperfect body—“in no way compares.”
Michel shook his head. He stepped closer until he was right in front of Brett, so close their dicks could almost touch. “Don’t say that. You’re extraordinary.”
Brett’s breath caught. His heart beat wildly, and he looked at his best friend and lover with what he knew to be naked emotion. Michel leaned forward and they kissed, a brief, soft flutter of a kiss before Michel was gone. Brett’s eyelids opened in time for him to see Michel settle in on his knees in front of him. The next moment, Michel’s talented hands were on Brett’s erection, followed closely by his mouth.
Brett gasped. He wanted to close his eyes, to revel in the sensation, but he also wanted to watch, in case he was dreaming. He looked down and nearly came on the spot. The sight of Michel’s beautiful face, his mouth open as he licked and sucked, his eyes focused on his task, his body taut with pleasure and anticipation, was too much. It took all of his willpower not to fall over the edge. He kept his hands clenched at his sides until Michel guided them into his hair and Brett resumed his erotic scalp massage.
After a few minutes, Brett gave Michel’s shoulders a gentle push. Michel pulled off him with a loud pop that was primal and had Brett on edge all over again. “Wait,” he managed to say.
Michel, too, was gasping. “For what?”
Brett didn’t know how to bring up anal. With women, he said he wanted to be inside them or wanted to have sex. But how did it work with another guy? Who asked to fuck whom? He’d thought about Michel being inside him and he was very into the idea. He’d masturbated to it. But maybe Michel wanted to be fucked?
This all lasted at most ten seconds before Brett realized it was okay. This was Michel. It didn’t matter if he said the words wrong. He trusted Michel completely. “I don’t want to come until one of us is balls deep in the other’s ass.”
Michel, who’d sat back on his heels, chuckled. Then he seemed to consider Brett.
Brett waited, his dick growing cold and his nerves starting to rise again.
“Have you been with a man, Brett?” Michel asked finally.
Brett shook his head. He didn’t know where this was going. Was Michel questioning Brett’s attraction to him? Or his sexual experience?
Michel simply nodded. “Do you have any desire to be fucked?”
This time, Brett nodded. His face grew hot. It was vulnerable, standing naked in front of his lover, talking about what he wanted. “Yes. I want you to fuck me.”
Michel smiled. His eyes sparkled. “Interesting. As fun as that’s going to be, I think you should fuck me tonight. It’s going to take some work to get you ready, and I’m afraid I’m rather impatient right now.”
Not that anyone would have been able to tell. Michel spoke so calmly, the heat radiating through his voice and lighting Brett up inside.
In one graceful move, Michel stood and strolled to his suitcase. He unzipped a pocket and removed a bottle of lube and a couple of condoms. These he threw on the bed before settling on the comforter on his back, his knees bent, feet apart, and everything on display.
Brett’s nerves were gone. In its place was a raging fire of lust and desire. He didn’t need to be asked to join Michel on the bed. In a moment, he was there, kissing Michel all over, fisting his cock, sucking his fingers, and trailing them down to Michel’s hole. He might not have had sex with a man before, but he knew how to do his research, and he had. Men needed to be opened, liberally, and Brett took his time prepping Michel.
“Brett,” Michel finally panted out, “I know you like to do things thoroughly, but you’re killing me. Please get on with it.”
Brett had never heard Michel beg for anything, and it tickled him that Michel was begging for him. He slipped on one of the condoms and covered them both with lube. Then he pushed in, slowly, taking his guidance from Michel’s body, from his gasping cries for more.
When they were fully connected, Brett leaned over until they were face-to-face. “Hi,” he said nervously, wondering if he was doing this right.
“Brett,” Michel said, his calm voice containing a small edge of irritation in it. “If you don’t fuck me hard right now, I will never forgive you.”
Brett laughed, his nerves retreating again, and set about making Michel’s request a reality. Soon, he wasn’t laughing anymore, he was so caught up in the building sensations. Michel reached for his cock and, with a few slight jerks, he came. Brett followed, unable to hold on any longer. He came hard, so hard he swore he blacked out briefly.
Then he was back in the hotel room, his body falling against Michel’s—sticky, sweaty, and exhausted. He clung to Michel and felt Michel clinging back to him. It took all his energy to raise his head and meet Michel’s lips. They kissed. It was clumsy and sloppy but exactly what he needed. He looked down into Michel’s eyes, his languid, sleepy eyes. “Can we just stay like this forever?”
A smile spread across Michel’s face. “I’d like that.”
A few minutes passed as they lay there, catching their breath and drifting back to reality, however reluctantly. Then their bodies began to cool and Brett reluctantly got up to take care of the mess. He climbed back into bed, and Michel, who had scooted under the covers, wrapped himself around Brett and gave the most contented sigh Brett had ever heard. He ran his fingers through Michel’s hair and told himself not to think about how much sex they could have been having were it not for his hang-ups.
Finally, he spoke because he had to ask. “Michel?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sure you’re not mad about what happened with my sisters?” It was a stupid question. He shouldn’t bring up his family when they were butt naked, curled around each other, coming down from an incredible high.
Michel lifted his head from where he’d laid it on Brett’s chest. He scooted up the bed until they were at eye level. Brett turned his head and found Michel watching him, his brown eyes concerned. “I’m mad...at them. None of what they said is true, and I need you to believe that.”
As Michel spoke, he raised a hand and laid it against Brett’s cheek, giving him a gentle caress. Brett leaned into that hand, wanting all the contact he could get.
“I do, mostly.”
“I get it.” Michel was quiet for a while before he said, “You’re not the only one with a dysfunctional family.”
Brett frowned as he realized, “I don’t know anything about your family.”
Michel nodded. “Which is purposeful. And for the best. I have my reasons for not wanting you to have to meet them, just like you have your reasons for keeping your family away from me. Which, thank God, you did.”
Brett searched Michel’s eyes and saw his earnestness, understanding, and a hint of pain. “I don’t want to make you talk about something you don’t want to, but there’s no way your family can be worse. I mean, my sister is the president of your fan club. And what’s worse, it’s the club my mother founded. My mother.”
He grimaced just thinking about it. It was bad enough when his mother and sister were extreme fans of his friend Michel. It was far worse now it was his boyfriend they were obsessed with. Of all the people in the Jacobs family, the only person who should be obsessed with Michel, in a totally normal way, was him and him alone.
Michel laughed. “I can’t believe it took me so long to realize Evelyn Jacobs is your sister.”
“Maybe because I’m so damn charming and she’s not?”
Michel punched him lightly in the bicep.
“Hey,” Brett protested. He stopped when Michel leaned forward and lightly kissed the spot he’d punched, running his lips over Brett’s sweaty skin.
Then Michel pulled back. Brett started to complain but stopped when he saw the frown on Michel’s face. “Did you ever read the Guinness Book of World Records?”
“Sometimes, yes,” Brett said, also frowning. He didn’t know what this had to do with anything except that it was distracting them from more kissing.
Michel rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. His chest fell as he let out a long sigh. “The man with the world record of hot dogs eaten in three minutes is my dad.”
Brett blinked, not sure how to respond to that.
Michel went on, “My mother has been voted the most devoted volunteer of her church group for five years straight when I was growing up. They live in this tiny little town that would not be okay with the swearing in my films, let alone accept you and me. It’s probable I have younger siblings, but I left as soon as I could and haven’t been back.”
Silence.
“Damn,” Brett said after a while. “I always pictured you having some big Italian family where everyone’s hanging out together and throwing huge parties. I thought you didn’t talk about them because they were intrusive and embarrassing and called you up to ask you why you had to get naked in so many of your movies.”
Michel laughed. “I might have one of those somewhere. I was adopted from an orphanage in Italy when I was a kid and I never knew who my birth parents were.”
Brett thought his heart would burst. He thought of Michel as a young, lonely kid with such talent and dreams, trapped in a world that didn’t understand or appreciate him. Here he was, thinking he knew everything about Michel, but there was this whole part of him, this childhood that he had left behind and buried.
He scooted over until he was right next to Michel, looking down at him. His face was raw, his eyes shiny, his hair messier than Brett had ever seen it. With his free hand, Brett reached out and smoothed his hair, loving that it was his fingers that made it messy in the first place. He trailed his hand down, tracing his features, spending an extra-long time on his lips. Then he leaned in and kissed Michel gently on his kiss-swollen mouth. He poured his empathy into that kiss. His comfort for the child Michel had been, the scared kid he had to leave behind.
When he broke away, he said, feeling it for the first time, “We’re going to be okay, you and me. We’re going to be okay.”
Michel gazed up at him and nodded, then he grabbed Brett by the neck and pulled him in for another kiss.